The Stubborn Scar-Head
by cairovault7
Summary: Voldemort may have been too weak to possess Harry before his Hogwarts years, but what if his fragile piece of soul still managed to create some annoyance in Harry's life. With the Dursley's on one side and his enemy's damned soul on the other, Harry's survival instincts are a little more than average. And like any other boy wizard, his magic tends to go haywire sometimes.


**A very respectful Disclaimer: JK Rowling made up a magical world of wizards, witches, potions, et all, all the characters, settings etc recognizable in this fan fiction belong to her.**

AN: We all know about Harry being the seventh Horcrux,(at least I hope you do, don't want to be a spoiler here, if not, too late). Now the Horcrux never possessed him as a child and I can only guess because Voldemort was too weak, but what if it tried more subtler (being modest here) techniques, like trying to make his enemy's life as annoying as a paltry bit of soul could? Did Harry ever have it in him to be in Slytherin, or was it all Voldemort?

In the beginning, Harry might come off as odd, but later I'll sketch him out proper.

* * *

Dudley Dursley scowled at Miss Wiks as she announced gaily, "Fifteen minutes left on the cloak, my Swallows!" and grumbled to himself. He had yet to attempt a single answer, it wasn't his fault the letters were so small. He sneaked a glance at his small cousin who sat beside him. Harry was furiously writing down the last few answers and if Dudley craned his neck a little more he might have glimpsed a few. But Dudley didn't want to twist his neck attempting that. But he also didn't want a sad egg face on his test sheet, one more thing he hated the teacher for.

Harry looked up then suddenly, catching Dudley staring at him before giving his cousin's sheet a quick peek. "Not even one?" he mouthed to Dudley, giving him a peculiar look, that would have looked strange in a ten year old's face if Dudley wasn't used to cousin's strangeness. He gave Harry a quick shake of his head, and then both the boys proceeded to track their teacher's movements.

Quick as lightening, papers were exchanged and Dudley found himself in possession of a test paper with each of the answers neatly in their box. A familiar scratching sound of a pencil made itself heard to Dudley and he watched as his cousin's black head bent down over the blank test sheet filling out the answers. Dudley had no doubt Harry would manage to finish writing down the answers in time. They _had_ done this many times before, that it had become almost like a habit. They had never been caught yet.

Don't get him wrong, Dudley wasn't exceptionally fond of Harry, he was an unnatural pest, according to his parents and Dudley was more than content to agree with them. But Harry had his uses; doing Dudley's homework, summarizing the stories their class teacher told, and helping him out during tests. It certainly allowed Dudley to have a lot of free time in his hands and still have very proud parents who gushed to anyone who would listen about the son's brilliant grades. With Harry beside him, Dudley could easily sail through his classes, and _that_ was the only reason Dudley always insisted on Harry and him being in the same school, in the same class.

"To stop him being a freak" as he put it to his perplexed parents, "Don't want to be seen with a freak!"

His father had thumped him at the back heartily and his mother had almost cried., "Taking one for the family already, Vernon. My Dudders!"

Harry's expression had been inscrutable. Dudley remembered Harry had stood silently near his cupboard, his frame resting against the door and offering no words of protest at being referred to as a freak. Which suited everyone just fine.

Dudley still played his favorite sport, 'Harry Hunting' but not as often as he had in the past. Academically being helped out and gaining the praise of his teachers had made Dudley rethink his cousin's value. He had graciously agreed to have Harry sleep in his second room meant for his toys. That way his untidy-haired cousin would have enough light in the night to finish Dudley's homework.

* * *

There really had been just one instance that changed Harry and his cousin's relationship as well as Harry's perspective. It had been a class test and Dudley as usual had idled the time away gazing out the window. His porky cousin had only jolted awake from his day dream( How shocking! Uncle Vernon's son dreaming when the man harped on about dreams affecting only worthless buggers on the streets.) when the teacher announced 'Time up'.

As his cousin's expression turned panicky, Harry had simply taken his Cousin's empty test sheet and exchanged it for his own. That action had resulted in a zero for Harry and disparaging remarks from Aunt Petunia. But Harry had never told them the truth nor did he gave Dudley any indication that he expected gratitude.

Dudley had that night come to Harry's cupboard and had slipped him his homework assignment.

He had found Harry scribbling away on his book and had simply pushed his own towards Harry, and had just turned his back to him when..."I need a pencil for that Dudley." his cousin politely informed him, holding out the pencil stub he had been using before., "There is not much left to do yours."

Dudley had emptied an entire set of pencils on Harry's head and a deal had been struck.

* * *

Harry hated sleep. He had become an insomniac. Why and how? Because of the dreams.

No matter what rubbish Uncle Vernon sprouted, he was right about dreams. His' were too vivid and maddening waking Harry up in the middle of the night; too disturbed to go back to sleep. The dreams were strange, some were of a green light and a woman screaming his name like her life depended on it. Harry had ended up hating his name, he felt like he was part of some horror movie.

It was his hatred for sleep that drove Harry to try and keep himself awake by any means possible. And that was how every night he climbed down his window and went exploring. Not that their area had much to be seen as a worthwhile exploration site, but it certainly gave Harry a night life.

If he ran instead of walked, he would reach the outskirts of the suburbs where he could always find street children playing and laughing, cats and dogs chasing each other and shops Harry would memorize and visit during the day. He had made quite a few friends in those streets.

Rick, the Garbage collector, Mrs Byrnes the Bookstore owner, the dogs...  
They all knew him as James or Jamie boy as Rick preferred to call him.

The first time Harry had met Mrs Byrnes had been a strange incident. He had gone into her bookstore, attracted by the colorful cartoon images and she had smiled down kindly at him. By the time he was done looking through the books, his excitement was full to bursting. The bright picture books called to him, and had made Harry want to grab the whole lot of it and read them at night. They certainly would last him weeks.

But the situation had seemed hopeless. The old woman would surely not allow a child to take a book home, he didn't even have a library card though he could always read them in the store. Harry had employed the same tactic he had used with Dudley. Unfortunately Mrs Byrnes was not like his dim-witted cousin.

"No, dear, you are too young to work here. Besides this small library had no need for extra help."

But Harry had persisted, and this was the strange part, from outright refusing his proposal, Mrs Byrnes had done quite the opposite; after his desperation had started showing up on his face, she had blinked curiously at Harry and said, " I need a little help around here, would you mind helping me out, Jamie?"

Harry's incredulous expression hadn't seemed to have any effect on her as she continued to inform him that, no, he would not be getting paid, but he could borrow a book whenever he liked.

She had seemed very off about the whole thing. And for some reason that Harry couldn't fathom he felt guilty about it. Which is why when the old woman handed him a large slice of cake at the end of the day, he had tried to refuse as politely as he could. She had insisted though and he had been left standing outside the bookstore, wondering why in God's name did he not just eat it.

He had given it to the dogs. It had soon become a habit. The dogs now followed him every time they saw him.

* * *

"Boy, get the mail" Uncle Vernon bellowed.

Harry mentally imagined his Uncle choking on his bacon as he went past him and yanked open the door.

 _Hmm, three letters, let's see, wait, is that for me? In green ink, how odd._

 _Hide it_. Some instinct told him. And so Harry pushed the letter deep inside his pocket. And carried the rest back to his impatient Uncle.

"How long does it take for you to get the mail, boy." said Uncle Vernon irritably

"Faster than your son." thought Harry as he went back to helping his Aunt in the kitchen.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore had just settled down on his chair for a much looked-forward-to siesta when a firm knock came from outside. The Deputy Headmistress entered, and going by her demeanor she was most displeased. She had an opened letter in hand.

"It's about Harry Potter, Albus." she said, her lips pursed; her irritation increased when he offered her a lemon drop.

"He has replied. And I don't know what kind of lies his Muggles relatives have told him, but he seems to think we are some sort of 'Satanic Cult' to put it, in his own words, dealing in devil worship and some such rot."

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose up at that. He wondered if he had underestimated Petunia Dursleys' hypocrisy.

"And he has 'informed us'" Minerva continued, frown lines appearing," that he has no interest in joining _Hogwash."_

"Indeed..." said Dumbledore, indicating the letter she held "May I?"

She handed it over. Dumbledore idly noted that the child had used the same Hogwarts parchment to write down his reply

 _Hmm, he certainly has a colorful vocabulary..._

* * *

Sunlight was slowly fading, when a robed figure made an appearance in the unremarkable suburbs.

Albus Dumbledore walked towards Number 4, Privet Drive, admiring the bumblebee buzzing about near some pink flowers. He gave a polite knock on the door and the door stubbornly remained closed, Dumbledore knocked was a patient man. Even if he had noticed Petunia Dursley spying his approach from her window, he would give her ample time to open the door for him.

Yet, as time passed and his only source of entertainment had buzzed away, Dumbledore with a sigh charmed the door open and entered. Petunia Dursley was right there in the hallway, her hands clutching at the telephone as if it were a lifeline.

"What are _you_ doing here?" she screeched, belatedly realizing she might not want to cross this wizard.

"Well Petunia, I decided to pay a visit so I could give your nephew a more unbiased view of our world-"

"He's not like your kind! Not like her." Petunia found herself interrupting, unable to stop herself," He's normal now. And he didn't get _that_ letter, so it proves we managed to make him normal..."

"I had hoped you would be able to set your differences with your sister aside but now I see it was optimistic of me." Dumbledore said softly, before his eyes fixed on the cupboard under the stairs. After staring at it for a while he looked up at Petunia and said "I intend to have a chat with Harry. But since he is outside at the moment I shall wait."

With that Dumbledore entered her living room , his purple robes clashing spectacularly with the decor and made himself comfortable on the sofa. Petunia could only stare at him in horror, wondering how long it would take Vernon to reach home.

"I suppose you have no refreshments to offer?" asked Dumbledore; his blue eyes crinkled at her lack of response, and he added,"I have often been fond of Muggle sweets, they come in so many varieties. But muggle wine is a novelty for me,and I don't get to use that word often."

As the silence dragged, Dumbledore pulled out a large bottle from his robes, "Come and sit down Petunia, this could be a long wait. I wonder if you have you ever tasted butterbeer before? Your sister was very fond of it."

Petunia was tempted to throw her favorite vase at him.

The door suddenly opened to reveal a startled Harry holding groceries in one hand, the other about to ring the bell.

"Ah, Harry, do come in." said Dumbledore getting up. As Harry kept the groceries on the table, Dumbledore introduced himself.

"Harry, I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, as you well know." Thinking back on that introduction, Dumbledore would realize perhaps that had not been the best move to begin with.

Harry's eyes narrowed before sending his Aunt a questioning look. It was that look that spurred Petunia into action.

"Harry go upstairs to your room." she said, her voice turning shrill and loud.

"What about the dishes-"

"You don't have to do them, just go to your room."

"Petunia" Dumbledore's tone was the slightest bit edgy. Harry looked back and forth between the two for a few seconds before disregarding Dumbledore and making for the stairs. If Dumbledore was surprised or disappointed, he didn't show it.

Instead he smiled at Petunia, " Since I have no intention of leaving without having a talk with Harry, it seems I shall have to take advantage of your hospitality and stay for dinner.

Petunia went upstairs and dragged Harry down.

* * *

"My mother is not a witch! And neither is my father! You can't just throw accusations-"

"Harry," said Petunia deciding it was for the best if she came clean and got this horrible situation done with. Besides sice Vernon wasn't around she didn't have to go all out in showing her hatred, "Your mother was a witch, he is telling the truth. Accept it and put an end to this conversation.

Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled at her outburst, but Harry was looking at her strangely, "What's he done to you Aunt Petunia? You never believed such things to be true."

"I lied! I lied and so did Vernon because we didn't want to encourage any of your freakishness, boy!" she hissed in exasperation. Why didn't he just accept it, the sooner that happened, the sooner the crackpot would leave her house.

"You just called me a freak" Harry's voice shook, and Petunia realized it _had_ been years since she had called him that, "I had thought you finally accepted me."

"Harry," Dumbledore intervened, "You are not a freak." he firmly stated but Harry's eyes didn't leave his Aunt.

"Has he done something to you?" Harry whispered, eyes narrowed suspiciously

"What?" Petunia looked confused, why did her nephew have to be so difficult?

If he is, what he say he is, then he can make you say what he wants you to say."

Petunia's incomprehension of her nephew's convoluted sentence seemed to convince him something was wrong.

"You're possessing her!" Harry turned accusatory eyes at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore for his part looked at Harry curiously before calmly stating, "I'm most certainly not possessing your Aunt, Harry. There are rules that govern magic."

"Hah, like the devil cares for rules!"

"Mum? What's going on?" Dudley looked at the three in confusion.

"Dudders!" Petunia moved towards him, not wanting her son exposed to Dumbledore's freakishness.

"Dudley, stay away. She's possessed!" her wretched nephew shouted grabbing Dudley's hand and pulling him towards the door. Petunia lost it, hurling her favorite vase in Harry's direction. Unfortunately the vase never met its target, disappearing into thin air causing both Harry and Dudley to look fearfully at a displeased Dumbledore.

"You see what he can do. Run!" Both the boys bolted. The door suddenly closed on them and yet as soon as they pushed at it, it opened, letting them escape.

Days later Petunia would reflect how her thrice-damned nephew was able to scare _her_ son into running away from _her_.

* * *

"Harry! Wha..." Dudley huffed, stopping, "What happened?"

"Dudley, unless you want to end up as sacrifice in some pagan ritual, you'd better run." Harry advised, huffing himself

"What about mom? What did he do to mom?"

"What he did with the vase." answered Harry grimly looking at his cousin, "Magic, that he got from the devil."

"Don't- don't say that!" Dudley looked half furious, half frightened. "He's like you isn't he?"

"I'm nothing like him!" raged Harry, "I don't worship the devil! Now if you don't want your insides pulled and burnt, you better not get caught by him."

"Wha-what?" Dudley spluttered

Harry ignored him and started running again. He could sense his cousin falling behind and his pace increased.

Soon he arrived in familiar territory. To Harry's dismay, the street-dogs immediately perked up at his arrival; they started to bark and playfully started nipping at his pants.

"Go away." Harry tried, trying to pull his leg away from one very persistent dog, "I don't have any cake for you!"

"Harry" a quiet voice interrupted

Turning, Harry scowled as Albus Dumbledore walked towards him.

"If you think I'll join your cult, well I'd rather die!"

The man's blue eyes were penetrating. "You don't believe a word of what you just said." he stated unfazed by Harry's glare.

Calm cerulean eyes met furious green, before Harry broke the stare. The dogs near Harry had gone unnaturally quiet and the night's silence descended on them.

Harry turned away. A forced laugh escaped his throat, "Minds can be read through magic then." he muttered, sounding dejected.

"There are certain arts." Dumbledore said vaguely, "But you have known the truth for a long time, haven't you Harry?"

"I'm not coming to Hogwarts!" Harry announced with renewed vigor, "And you can't make me! I won't-"

"Pop"

And just like that, mid-sentence, Harry "Jamie" Potter vanished into thin air, to his own bewilderment.

Dumbledore shook his head, eyes twinkling "Children and their passions."

AN: I have always wondered how characters would realistically react when placed in different situations and painfully tried to picture them myself until I started looking at blogs posts and fan fiction for answers. I have found some very realistic ones, and some not my cup of tea. But I'm rambling here, my point is how would Dumbledore react if Harry refused to come to Hogwarts? There are many fan fictions out there exploring all this, so what I'm going to ask readers is, if you have the inclination, to pick a favorite or random Hp character and write down their reaction to the events in this chapter.

Thank you

...x...x...x...x...x...


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